What Goes Bump in the Night
by storyspinners
Summary: "He should have stayed home instead of going to work that day. Oh he should have."  Dark AU. M for blood.


Disclaimer: Don't own, just borrowing.

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Why didn't he stay at home in bed that day?

Nice and cozy, curled beneath the warmth of his covers, waking up slowly, lazily, eating a breakfast full of eggs and toast and bacon. Spending the day in peace. He should have stayed home instead of going to work. Oh he should have.

But Alfred Jones, contrary to what most people would say about his character or morales, was not one to skip out and shirk his duties when his boss had said he'd be needing both of his employees that day. Alfred worked at a bar merely a couple streets from where he lived, it wasn't a fancy-like place or even particularly noticeable, but it was always busy. People coming and going, stumbling far out into the night after they'd had their drinks. His boss owned and, for the most part, ran the place on his own. Family business or something like that, but with a rowdy group of regulars dropping in for a get-together and the boss out of town, Alfred was asked to come in.

So it was, that Alfred proceeded to fix a few drinks, bus tables, and the like with his only other co-worker Todd or Ted, he could never remember, until well past the surrounding areas had closed shop and night settled down with the orange glow of the streetlights. There had been laughing, wild jokes, would he like to listen to some good old stories, and had they heard about the strange and gruesome murders across different towns lately? Alfred could honestly say he was relieved when things quieted down and people left one by one. Only Todd, or was it Ted, continued manning the front and a frequent patron, a pretty woman, sat at table alone, finishing her last drink before heading out as well. Alfred stacked chairs and arrange tables back into their proper place at the far end of the just about empty bar, the only sound being the door's tinkling bell as a late comer entered.

"What can I getcha?" he heard Todd or Ted ask as a greeting.

An accented voice replied, "Whatever's good," followed by the slight creak of old wood as someone sat down on one of the barstools. Alfred glanced up from his work and saw it was man with messy blonde hair, green eyes, and impressive eyebrows who had answered. He was dressed in a clean-pressed, white shirt, black and gray suit vest, and equally black pants. But his shirt was starting to untuck and he was missing his tie. Just off of work, probably a really late shift, Alfred guessed. They got a lot of those in here.

His co-worker laughed in a friendly manner as he placed a large glass of some amber liquid in front of his costumer, "Well, not to brag, but we do have some of the best beer around, er- "

"Arthur," the man replied, allowing his bartender that much as to be friendly. But there was something about his voice that was unnerving, chilling. It made the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck stand on end.

"Nice to meet'cha," Todd or Ted said with a smile. The man, Arthur, reached for the glass with a nod back to him, but a look of alarm and concern suddenly crossed the bartender's face. "Are you alright? There's blood on your sleeve."

Alfred watched while wiping another table, as Arthur slowly glanced down and regarded, almost curiously, the scarlet stain so stark against his crisp, white shirt. "Ah, so there is," the man commented lazily. He could have been discussing the weather for all anyone knew. He began rolling up his long sleeves, effectively covering the red mark from view. "Rather sloppy of me. But you know, it's quite difficult to determine which direction blood is going to spurt, shall we say. Can't be helped at times really."

All of Alfred's attention was focused on the two men now. The other woman, still at her table, let her own glass sit forgotten as she too, observed the sinister turn this conversation had veered to. They saw the color drain completely from his co-worker's face, as if it had been washed right off. He stepped back slightly, realizations mixed with conclusions behind his widening eyes and Arthur had to have seen it as well.

"What-"

But Todd or Ted or whatever his actual name was, never finished his question as with a sudden lurch and flash of sliver, a ragged gash slashed its way across his throat, shining blood dripping down his neck before he dropped to the floor. Like a marionette whose strings were just cut. Arthur stood staring, unconcerned, down over the other side of the bar as the body fell still, wiping the silvery red of his blade against the edge of the counter, cleaning it off.

As shock quickly faded, Alfred and the woman, moved at the same time. He sprang over to the side of the bar's counter, closest to where he had been cleaning tables, and ducked behind the end of it. Alfred was moving on instinct alone, reaching for the metal bat his boss had kept next to the cabinets of liquor. It had been a gift from someone, a sort of funny cliche joke; they never thought they'd ever have to use it.

On his knees with the bat in hand, Alfred peered around the side of the bar, deciding where to go next, when he froze in his place.

The woman, it seemed, had tried to make a break for the door, but a few quick steps across the room and Arthur had grabbed her before she could escape. A foot or so away, on the wooden floor, lay her phone. Alfred was praying silently that the girl had called the police before being grabbed.

Arthur's green eyes flashed dangerously as he gripped the woman's hair, forcing her to her knees, and bringing that large, sharp blade to rest against the exposed skin of her neck. She didn't flinch when the metal touched her, but her fingers were shaking as she fumbling with something in her hands. It appeared to be ring, beautiful and expensive looking, which she slipped off her thumb and let it fall at the man's feet. "Take it," she said, "It's all I have on me, just take it."

Arthur looked at the jewel on the floor for a moment. "Hm, pretty," he said, with a listless smile. He brought his foot down over the ring, crushing it and causing it to crack into several pieces, "But no thank you. I've had my fun for the night and honestly, this whole mess could have been avoided but for the intrusive curiosity of your dead companion over there. "

The woman jerked in Arthur's grasp, glaring at him defiantly, but the fear could be heard in her voice as she whispered, "Please," and Alfred knew he had to do something, _anything_. "Please, just... let me go."

Arthur seemed to almost sigh as he said, with a flippant gesture of his hand, "Alright alright, _of course_," and released his hold on the woman's hair.

She didn't move far, however, when Arthur's other hand brought the knife sweeping back across her throat, and Alfred cried out, but it was of no use. He shut his eyes and turned his face away before he saw the blood, but he couldn't block out the woman's strangled gasp, which morphed into more of a gurgling choke, and the thump as she hit the floor.

When Alfred slowly opened his eyes again, it was to see Arthur crouched next to the body, his arms resting on his knees as more of that crimson stain dribbled from the tip of his silver knife. Alfred was going to be sick. His body was shaking and this man was calm as ever, studying the scene before him as if it was _interesting. _Why, why hadn't he just stayed home that day?

Arthur suddenly shifted and called out in the empty room, "It's rude to stare, you know." His gaze flicked over meet Alfred's with a crack and Alfred's breathe caught and his throat constricted as he tore away from those eyes, turning rapidly and sitting on the floor with his back against the end of the counter. His hands clenched around the bat fiercely as he heard the other man rise and step forward.

Those agonizingly slow footsteps echoed more than they should have and Alfred couldn't bear it; found himself asking out loud, "Why?"

The footsteps didn't stop, but now they were joined with faint laughter. Alfred thought that was worse than the silence.

"Not many people have asked," that chilling voice replied, "And I'll admit, my mind is always buzz buzz buzzing and it never stops and I'm so _bored_. Terribly bored. But you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time I suppose."

There was no comfort in those words.

Alfred didn't respond back, instead lifting his only weapon and weighing his chances for survival. He was glad his mind decided he'd rather go down fighting if this man was going to kill him. Alfred watched and waited, nerves tingling under his skin, for a pair of shoes to reach the edge of the bar before attacking...

But they never came.

Alfred leapt up from his spot on the ground and found the bar deserted. Empty. And the man completely gone as if he slipped into the nearest shadow and faded away. It was only now that Alfred heard sirens blaring faintly in the distance, growing steadily louder as the police cars raced to the bar. The woman had managed to reach them after all.

There was commotion, flashing red and blue lights, yelling, orders being thrown, and questions being asked. Alfred was gathered up and escorted outside. He didn't look at the bodies as he passed. He could see their faces in his mind when he closed his eyes. The officer he was with was talking to him, most likely saying something comforting, but Alfred wasn't listening. There was humorless laughter ringing in his ears.

And when he made it to the cop's car, was seated inside, and they started off towards the station, Alfred felt burning green eyes watching him.


End file.
